


futures

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Leaves the Jedi Order, F/F, Forehead Kisses, Jedi Leia Organa, Love Confessions, Padawan Rey, Padmé Amidala Lives, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: The joys of growing up in the desert: you could learn that what you had was enough, even if it was transient. Anakin Skywalker was from a desert world, too, but that was a lesson he’d rejected. It did not hurt her to admit to herself that maybe he was right.But it also did not hurt her to admit that this was not the deepest pain she could ever feel. Master Naberrie might never touch her the way she wanted to be touched and yet she would still be able to rejoice because they were together. It wouldn’t have been enough for him, but it was for her.





	futures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



“Is this entirely necessary, Master? I know you hate the stacks as much as I do,” Rey asked, dragging her hand through her freshly shorn hair. It grew so fast. Between one minute and the next, it was time for another cut and no matter how often she reworked her padawan braid, it seemed in need of care. Were it up to her, she might have shaved her head, braid and all, and simply wear it that way. It was only because Master Naberrie looked at her with reproach and maybe, maybe the slightest hint of sadness, that kept Rey from committing the act and accept whatever consequences went along with it.

Some treated the braid as some sort of idol, a piece of worship, proof of all the deeds they’d done, as though the deeds didn’t speak for themselves. Rey was different. She’d been brought late to the Temple on Coruscant. She still remembered a bit of her life before, the scorching, scalding sands of Jakku. Nothing was permanent there. It could exist and then be gone within hours. There was no point coveting anything when all was lost one way or another, one day or the next or years and years down the line.

Sometimes Master Naberrie joked that Rey would make a better Jedi Master at twenty-one than she herself did at fifty-five, but Rey knew that was nonsense. And Master Naberrie did, too, when Rey said things like, “I’m going to shave my head and this bloody braid along with it.”

“Consider this a lesson in patience, Rey,” was all Master Naberrie said in response, her voice low and husky and so amused that it left Rey with an ache in her chest. “Perhaps we both need a refresher.”

“You’re only saying that because you couldn’t think of a good reason why I shouldn’t just be rid of the thing,” Rey groused. And it was true. Rey’d argued her point eloquently; they would have both admitted that much and, in fact, Master Naberrie had. It was enough that there was pride in Master Naberrie’s eyes as she finished and it took her a long time to respond. Then, a hint of mischief lightened the delightful brown of her gaze and Rey knew she was well and truly kriffed. That look boded ill every time Rey saw it.

There was punishment here, a trap. And they would all suffer for it.

The fact that somehow Rey still didn’t mind was, well. Let it never be said that Rey couldn’t admit she wasn’t a perfect Jedi. Rey knew the story of Master Naberrie’s birth, the love shared between her mother and her Jedi father. Her ex-Jedi father. The father who left the Order because he loved her mother so deeply. It was romantic. It was touching. It was a wild idea that sometimes, sometimes she could understand in her very bones.

For Master Naberrie, she would have given up everything. If she but asked for it, Rey would give up more.

And sometimes, she felt in her heart, in the deepest parts of her, that Master Naberrie wanted to ask. Their loneliness mingled in those moments, their paired solitudes clamoring to twine together. Force bonds were fickle things and they did their utmost to ensure privacy between them, but it still leaked through. How much Rey wanted her. And Rey dared to hope that Master Naberrie wanted her in turn.

Rey knew Anakin Skywalker’s answer to this tangle. She respected it. But she thought this could be enough for her. If Master Naberrie never asked for anything more, Rey could be happy.

The joys of growing up in the desert: you could learn that what you had was enough, even if it was transient. Anakin Skywalker was from a desert world, too, but that was a lesson he’d rejected. It did not hurt her to admit to herself that maybe he was right.

But it also did not hurt her to admit that this was not the deepest pain she could ever feel. Master Naberrie might never touch her the way she wanted to be touched and yet she would still be able to rejoice because they were together. It wouldn’t have been enough for him, but it was for her.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Master Naberrie said, turning her head to look back at Rey. Her step didn’t falter once in the act. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all, Master,” Rey replied, pleased as always that so much of Master Naberrie’s focus was on her even in these silent moments between them. “I’m merely imagining how Master Skywalker will look once we present our request to the council.”

“I’m sure he’ll be very pleased with us,” she replied, holding back a laugh. “As he always is when we darken the council’s doorstep.”

“You could become a master on the council.” In fact, they often wanted her to join, asked her on a near monthly basis it seemed. But she enjoyed training Padawans too much to give it up. She wasn’t like her brother, who very much preferred the distance that joining the council had provided for him. No, she liked to be in the thick of things, guiding the future generations, perhaps tweaking her brother and the other masters on the council on very rare occasions. Rey was, admittedly, very happy that she chose to decline.

It was for more selfish reasons than a Jedi should have had, but they were Rey’s and she was honest with herself about that. And she never would have tried to dissuade Master Naberrie if she wanted it or genuinely thought she should be there. Duty above all, that was Master Naberrie’s thoughts on the matter. And she’d instilled that same sense of duty in Rey.

Rey would have lied to her face if she thought that was what Master Naberrie needed to hear in order to fulfill her greatest desires. Another dubious thing a good Jedi might not have done, but if it served a greater cause, Rey was willing to bear those consequences.

She loved Master Naberrie that much, loved her so deeply that she could let her go if it was necessary.

“I could also throw myself into the nearest planetary civil war with nothing more than my wits to keep me safe,” Master Naberrie replied, wry. Rey decided it wasn’t the best time to argue that she had, in fact, done just that on occasion. “That doesn’t mean I intend to do it.”

Master Naberrie didn’t intend to do a lot of things; that didn’t stop those from happening either. This, Rey also refrained from speaking. Master Naberrie was already aware of it.

“You know me too well,” Master Naberrie added after a moment. “Your restraint will serve you well once you’re knighted.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind putting it off, thank you.”

“It’d solve this braid problem of yours,” Master Naberrie pointed out, stopping finally and turning to face her. “We wouldn’t have to search the archives for precedent.”

That was true. Rey could think of a lot of things they could be doing in the archives instead. The kind of things the other Padawans sometimes engaged in. The kind of things that had never made Rey blush, but probably should have given how other people reacted to them. Something of the bend of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Master Naberrie offered her an arched eyebrow, a widening of her eyes, a slight opening of her mouth as though she was surprised—but not so very surprised really. She drew in a breath and released it, her hands falling to her hips. “You’re serious,” she said, and Rey wasn’t disingenuous enough to pretend she didn’t know exactly what she was talking about.

Rey did, however, look around her to ensure there was no one around who might overhear. “You’re a beautiful woman, Master.” She said it as though it was an irrefutable fact of life and, for Rey, it was. That didn’t mean she was going to act on it or behave any differently. She dipped her head anyway. “I’m sorry that you—I don’t mean to make things uncomfortable. I’ll do better to keep my feelings to myself.”

Arguments lined themselves up in her mind. The first and foremost was: it never affected her work, her studies, her devotion to the Force. Not in any way anyone could tell.

Master Naberrie sighed and brushed her hands through her hair, mussing the simple knot she wore. “Oh, Rey.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly, consulting her own thoughts without the distractions of the outside world. She did this often. Rey could never tell until Master Naberrie spoke again whether her decision was a good or bad one.

She resolved to do better. She’d gotten sloppy. It wasn’t fair that her master should have to put up with this, too. It was Rey’s problem and Rey’s alone.

“Rey,” she said, gentle, kind. “You must know I care for you. Deeply.”

Rey did know that; she knew it the way she knew the Force pulsed through every corner of the galaxy. But that didn’t mean she meant it the way Rey meant it. It didn’t mean she wanted what Rey wanted. “I do, master,” she answered, forcing her eyes up. Master Naberrie had always taught her to face her fears head on. And this was one of them. She might have ruined everything with her admission. Or, at the very least, changed the facets of their relationship beyond repair. Rey had known of some Padawans who’d had to change masters as a result of their feelings, who’d grown distant from those they cared most about.

Rey didn’t want that. She didn’t want Master Naberrie to think she required that. Rey could manage.

She just didn’t want to be sent away.

“I do know,” she reiterated, her voice firm and in control. She would betray no fear; there was no fear to betray. At least, that was what she told herself.

She raised her hand to cup Rey’s cheek and her eyes were still so kind, so understanding. Rey was certain she was about to be let down in the gentlest way possible. Bracing for it, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

“Rey,” Master Naberrie said, her other hand settling on Rey’s shoulder to shake her slightly. Her thumb brushed lightly over Rey’s chin, making Rey shudder at the intimacy of that touch. “You deserve to know that I feel the same way. I do.”

Rey didn’t have to hear it to know the but was coming. And that was okay. Her heart cracked open at the admission, admiration and love spilling into every crevice in her body. She might have floated away on the sensation. There was no denying the truth of it. It was more than she would have ever thought to expect.

A Jedi’s life was one of sacrifice and denial. Denial of selfish impulses, of relationships, of personal needs and wants. It was the cost of doing good in the galaxy. Rey accepted it and embraced it. Her only goal in life was to heal where she could, protect people when she had to, save them from the hostilities the galaxy would throw at them.

“I was going to tell you after you were knighted,” she said. “But you were always a little more prescient than I was.”

“That’s not true.”

Master Naberrie smiled then. “Perhaps headstrong, then.”

Rey ducked her head finally. “That is quite probably true.”

Master Naberrie huffed in amusement and pulled Rey forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead and then embraced her. “Now isn’t the right time,” she said, “but it will be. You’re almost ready for your trials. That’s the most important thing now. We can figure the rest of this out then.”

Rey’s heart climbed her throat and threatened to fall out of her mouth in a tumble of words. Grace and gratitude and all manner of desires, all tangled together. But Master Naberrie was right. This wasn’t the time. And there would yet be time for them; Rey was certain of that. 

As long as they were together, Rey believed anything was possible. “Thank you,” she said, breath warm against her master’s chest. Rey clung to her robes, fingers tight in the rough-spun fabric. It was a comfort to her to be within the circle of her master’s arms. One day, she would be able to taste more, but for now, this was enough.

“Perhaps we should get back to our research?” Master Naberrie suggested.

“Oh,” Rey said, the warmth of a blush suffusing her cheeks. “Yes. If we must.”

“You did want to know why Padawans have to wear the braids.” Then she smirked. “Because you didn’t like my answer or the answer you were taught in the crèche.”

That was true. Rey could definitely take credit for that. But Master Naberrie didn’t have to take her so literally either.

But that had always been her way; Rey had always had to learn from her mistakes, even the small ones, even the ones she walked into unwittingly. They always had to play out in full.

Be careful what you wished for, that was how Master Naberrie trained her.

It certainly made things interesting.

Even so, Rey wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
